


Petrificus Totalus

by abbily1428



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-12-25
Updated: 2013-10-22
Packaged: 2017-11-22 08:53:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/608027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/abbily1428/pseuds/abbily1428
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the war, Hermione is taken captive and turned into a sex slave. Can Fred save her before it's too late? WARNING: Explicit rape, language, smut, disturbing scenes, etc.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

She stared at the amber liquid in her glass, almost willing it to come alive and speak to her. She had been in captivity for as long as she could bear to remember. No one had called. No one had owled. As far as she could tell, no attempts to find her had been made. She was all alone in this luxurious dungeon. All alone except for Master. No one to talk to except for Master. Master and his-, she winced at the thought,-friends.

The leader of the Order of the Phoenix, Fred Weasley, stood with his arms crossed in front of a huge bulletin board. On it were pinned photographs and articles depicting various places in Great Britain and the surrounding countries that Hermione had ever visited or mentioned in conversation. She had been missing for nearly eight months. After several reconnaissance missions had failed to uncover her location, Fred had resolved to do things the Muggle way. He had gone undercover to extract information about where she had gone in the days leading up to her disappearance. He hadn't gathered much.

Hermione was a homebody, preferring to stick close to her spacious two-bedroom apartment in Hogsmeade. She owned and ran a small coffee shop only two blocks away from her home, occasionally writing pieces for the Daily Prophet and other publications. She didn't have many boyfriends, according to her downstairs neighbor Mrs. Fledgehorn. She was a sweet, clever girl that kept to herself unless otherwise provoked. Of course, this was common knowledge to the Order. Fred had known her since she was eleven years old, for Merlin's sake! She was his kid brother's best friend and the love-. No. His kid brother's best friend. She's his kid brother's best friend.

The banging of the dungeon's metal door startled Hermione out of her thoughts. She looked up warily at the tall man standing in the doorway.

"Stand up," his deep voice drawled.

She stood, shivering in the cold of the stone room. His eyes raked her scantily clad body, searching for defects he knew weren't there.

"I am having a dinner party tonight. You will be present."

"Yes, Master."

"Wear the black lace dress and the highest heels you have. Makeup and hair are mandatory. Do not wear underwear except the red lace thong that goes with your dress."

Hermione stiffened her countenance as she heard her orders. She must obey Master, or she'll be punished. Pain. Pain. Pain. She shook her head to rid the memories. She had to get dressed. She must obey Master.

She stepped into a waterfall in the corner of the room and scrubbed herself with the special soap Master ordered her to use. She dried herself and pulled the lace dress over her emaciated frame. She shook out her hair and applied the thick layer of makeup that Master required her of her. She grabbed a pair of red six-inch heels and slipped into them, taking one final look in the enchanted mirror to ensure she looked appropriate for the evening's activities.

Finally, she sat down on the large mattress in the floor, awaiting Master's call.

"Freddy, love?" Angelina Jones, Fred's fiancée, called from the doorway of the study.

"Yes?" he responded, looking up at her with dark, hollowed eyes. He hadn't been sleeping much.

"Why are you up so late? It's nearly two in the morning."

"I'm close to a breakthrough. I know I am."

Angelina walked beside him and placed a warm hand on his elbow. "Come to bed."

"Soon," he kissed her cheek and hugged her. "I promise."

"All right," she sighed, looking over her shoulder as she walked upstairs. "We will find her, Fred."

"I know, Lina. I know we will," he sat down and restarted shuffling through the stacks of paper on his desk.

There was something he was missing. Something huge was staring him in the face. He just needed to find out what it was.

Hermione gracefully entered Master's study when he called her. Master was sitting in his high-backed leather armchair on a raised dais in the center of the room, conversing with a dark-haired man. The men and women surrounding him stared at her as though she was a sheep for the slaughter. She kept her gaze to the floor and allowed Master's friends the chance to see what they were buying.

"Ah, Hermione. Thank you for joining us," Master's deep voice drawled from his chair. "I assume you're ready?"

"Of course, Master," she whispered, keeping her eyes lowered.

"Our guest of honor is Mrs. Lestrange. I believe you've met."

"Yes, Master," Hermione replied, voice slightly trembling at the thought of having to serve Bellatrix.

"Bellatrix," Master said pleasantly, turning to the older woman. "Would you like her to serve you publicly or privately?"

"You know me," the woman smiled, showing sharp teeth that almost looked like fangs. "I always love a public…service."

"Very well. You have free reign, but please don't hurt her too much. I have another party planned soon."

"I'll try."

Bellatrix began to walk forward and smiled at the small girl before her. She transfigured a nearby chair into a set of iron chains that hung from the ceiling and Accio'd Hermione to them. Locking the shackles in place, she ran a finger over Hermione's lace-clad spine. Hermione shivered, causing the woman to cackle.

She took a single sharp nail and sliced open the back of Hermione's dress, exposing her bare torso and red lace thong. She slowly ran her hand along the young girl's backside, digging her sharpened nails into the pale skin. A sharp cackle directly behind Hermione startled her slightly, digging Bellatrix's talons deeper into her flesh. Hermione gritted her teeth and clenched her fists, determined not to show her pain.

Bellatrix looked at Master, glancing down at Hermione's fists and raising a questioning brow. Master gave an indifferent wave of his hand, giving Bellatrix the permission she desired. Flicking her wand, Bellatrix used a silent incantation to slice a wire-thin cut extending from Hermione's shoulder to her opposite hip. Hermione trembled in agony. A single drop of blood begins to slowly roll down Hermione's spine. Bellatrix lent down and licked the wound from hip to shoulder, licking her lips as she reached the end.

"Oh, I love the taste of Mudblood," she cackled to the group of people behind her. This earned a resounding chuckle from the group of people watching the display.

Hermione shook violently in the shackles. She hated this. But she had to obey Master. Master wanted her to do this. She had to obey.

Bellatrix stepped in front of Hermione and waved her wand. A string of tiny metal spikes appeared midair. With each wave of her wand, the spikes imbedded themselves into Hermione's soft flesh. Hermione's whimpers of pain only earned a smile from the older woman. When all the spiked were in, Bellatrix looked down pridefully at her work. She reached forward and softly lifted Hermione's slightly bleeding breast, running her thumb over the peaked nipple.

"You're enjoying this, you little whore, aren't you?" she cackled, pulling the flesh in her hand down and causing the spikes to move. "You love being my little bitch. Say it. Tell Mistress how you love being her little bitch."

A single tear fell down Hermione's cheek as the spikes moved. She bit her lip, attempting to revolt against the woman. That was what Master wanted. He wanted her to be punished.

Bellatrix' smile widened as she saw Hermione's rebellion. She got down on her knees and stared at Hermione's bald womanhood. Conjuring a block of unpolished wood, she shoved it into Hermione's dry vagina, eliciting a high-pitched scream. She drew the wood out and shoved it in again, causing the wood to splinter inside of her.

"Say it, you little Mudblood whore!"

"I love being your little bitch, Mistress," Hermione cried, feeling the splinters with every movement.

Bellatrix stroked the girl's leg softly. "That's right, girl."

With a quick swish of Bellatrix' wand, the spikes and wooden block vanished, and all of her wounds were healed. Hermione hung limply in the shackles, breathing hard.

Bellatrix stood. "All right, boys. It's your turn."

Hermione eyed the men warily. She turned to look at Master.

"Master," her voice cracked. "Please."

"Gentlemen," Master stood, effectively catching the group's attention. "I think it's time for our dear Hermione to retire to her boudoir. She will be present next week. I will send for Cricket to entertain you for the rest of the evening."

The men cheered and settled back into the semicircle of couches Hermione hadn't noticed before. She breathed a quiet sigh of relief. She stood stock-still while the House Elf released her. The small creature grabbed her hand and led her out of the room and down into the dark dungeon where she had spent the recent months.

The House Elf shut the iron door behind her. Hermione walked over to her waterfall and scrubbed the slave grime off of her petite body. She dried off and wrapped herself in a soft comforter, sitting down on the mattress to wait for Master.

Master came only an hour later, opening the heavy iron door without ceremony.

"Hello, Master," she said quietly, keeping her focus on the floor.

"Hello, Hermione," he said warmly, sitting down on the mattress next to her. "You did very well tonight."

"Thank you, Master."

"Hermione, I've decided to change your position in the harem."

Hermione's gaze snapped up in surprise. "Master?"

"I want you to train the young slaves. Of course, you will still be working for me. But you will have new chambers and new clothes."

"Oh, thank you, Master."

"Show us your gratitude, slave."

She nodded, standing and letting the blanket pool around her feet. She turned to face the door and bent down, showing Master her ass. He raised a hand and stroked it.

"Master, thank you."

"Oh, it will be my pleasure."

An hour later, Master left and Hermione collapsed onto the mattress, exhausted. Master was happy with her. That was all she needed.

The Pensieve bowl shook as the doctor pulled her head out of it. The tall woman took a deep, shaky breath and turned to look at the couple on the couch in front of her.

"So," she cleared her throat as she sat down on the overstuffed recliner. "How long ago did this happen?"

"I was rescued four years ago," Hermione whispered. "After two years in blissful hell."


	2. Chapter 2

Hermione stared at the floor, silent, as the doctor asked her boyfriend some questions. Her head snapped up as she heard a little girl crying outside the door. She shook her head and curled up into a ball, holding her knees and sobbing.

"Not her," she repeated softly. "Take me instead. Don't hurt Olivia."

The doctor looked at Hermione's boyfriend in question. As soon as Hermione had started shaking, he had wrapped her in his arms and was rocking her back and forth, whispering in her ear to help her calm down. The doctor, realizing what had set off the episode, cast a quick Silencing spell on the room.

It took nearly half an hour for Hermione to stop sobbing. She peeled herself from her boyfriend's grasp and sat still, slowly breathing in and out. She looked up at the doctor.

"I'm ready."

Hermione straightened the deep blue bustier in the mirror and tied the ribbons on her matching high heels. Master's stylist had come in with an all-new wardrobe for her, as well as a fully-staffed team of professionals to do her hair and makeup every day. Master said that this is what came to his madams.

A girl who was about 16 handed her a black lace robe to cover the bustier she was wearing. Hermione brushed her newly-elongated curls over her shoulder and strode out of the room, oozing the confidence Master's clothes had given her.

Flinging open the door to the slaves' room, she strutted in and put her hands on her hips, motioning for the girl behind her to shut the door.

"Good morning, ladies," she said. "Welcome."

She surveyed the group of new girls. Her eyes softened a little bit. There were ten girls, all of them younger than eighteen, and all of them shivering in rags. Hermione swallowed and sat down on a cushion, waving at the girls to get them to sit.

"Girls, I'm sorry that this happened to you," Hermione said softly. "But it can't be changed. I'm here to make sure that your stay here isn't miserable. Take it from someone who's been there, being obedient is the only way to survive here."

"So you're saying," a girl with ratty black hair sneered from the corner."That we have to be whores, like you."

Hermione smirked. "Listen, girl. It took me a year to figure this out. MY madam didn't tell me because she knew that Master liked to break little girls with attitudes, so I suggest that you listen to what I have to say."

A small blonde, who must have been, at the most, fourteen years old, raised her hand.

"Miss?" she squeaked.

"Yes, dear," Hermione found herself using the same pet names as her own madam used to.

"Are we going to die?"

"Oh, honey," Hermione smiled, opening her arms. The girl practically flew into Hermione's embrace, clutching to her slim shoulders. "Of course not."

"Then what are we going to do?" the snotty girl drawled, crossing her legs. "I mean, we're not going to play checkers."

"My job is to ensure that you do what you are told when you are told to do so," Hermione said quickly, not wanting to scare the other girls. "Whoever is assigned to you will determine what you do. For all I know, you could be playing checkers."

"But first things first, wardrobe," Hermione said, setting down the blonde girl and standing. "There is a dress code to follow. Go to that closet and Mandarin will get you your own clothing."

Hermione stood watch while the girls silently went towards the closet. She knew well what was in there, having been through the process before. She had been appalled at the scant outfits they were being ordered to wear. However, she knew that these were probably the most conservative items of clothing any of these girls would own during their stay.

Fifteen minutes later, the girls had been dressed in various lingerie sets and were standing in a line awaiting Hermione's approval. Hermione gritted her teeth at the girls' appearances, knowing that within the week, the Death Eaters would be seeing them like this, as well.

"All right, girls," Hermione said softly. "Time for lesson two."

Fred was in a rage. Not just angry, he was infuriated. He glared at the small man who was sitting across from him.

"What do you mean, you've seen her?" he whispered, clearly in the verge of violently killing the man.

The man was stoic. "I mean, she was at the last dinner party, and I saw her."

Fred clenched his fists over the wood of the desk. "Was she all right?"

"Not exactly," the man shifted uncomfortably. "She was the, uh, entertainment."

"Get out," Fred said quietly.

"Fred-"

"Get out, Ron!"

Ron ran out of the room as quickly as he could. Fred looked back at the bulletin board behind his desk, a single tear running down his cheek. She was the entertainment. Even in his head, the word was repulsive to him. He was well aware of what happened at those dinner parties, having been to one himself in disguise almost eight months ago in search of information on Hermione's whereabouts.

He Accio'd the Floor Powder and threw a handful in the fireplace, shouting out his destination. He was going to Malfoy Manor.

Hermione collapsed on the comfortable bed in her new quarters. She was absolutely exhausted. The girls had spent the day learning different…techniques…so they could better serve their respective masters. They did splendidly, if one could say that. They were far more compliant than any group of girls she had seen come through the training program. The only one who had balked at any of the steps was the snarky girl, and even she shut up after a few lessons. They would be assigned their mentors within the week.

A knock on her door startled her. She wrapped the black robe around herself and assented for the girl who was waiting on her to open the door. Master stepped in the room, motioning for the girl to vacate.

"I heard that you did a wonderful job with the new girls," he smiled. "You must be tired."

"Yes, Master," she sighed. "It is quite tiring."

"You could use a bath," he said. She could hear the order in his voice and obediently stood to go to the bathroom.

"What a lovely suggestion, Master," she said quietly.

"I'm looking out for you, dear," he grinned and followed her into the bathroom.

After a session of bathtub sex, shower sex, on-the-floor and against-the-wall sex, Hermione was truly worn out. Master left her to clean up after herself. As he left, Hermione collapsed on the floor, sobbing. She could degrade herself like this, because it was the only way she could survive. But she couldn't do it to those poor, innocent girls.

That was how Mandarin found her, naked and sobbing on the soapy floor of the bathroom. She cleaned her up and put her to bed, covering her with a thick, flannel nightgown, something Hermione hadn't seen since before she was captured. Hermione fell asleep still crying for the girls as Mandarin stroked her hair.

"So you taught them how to do…everything?" the doctor asked Hermione.

"Yes." Hermione said shortly, looking at the wall beside her.

"Were they ever, what do you call it, assigned?"

"No."

"What do you mean, no?"

"They were never assigned," Hermione whispered, looking directly as the doctor now. "I took their place."


	3. Chapter 3

Previously...

"So you taught them how to do…everything?" the doctor asked Hermione.

"Yes." Hermione said shortly, looking at the wall beside her.

"Were they ever, what do you call it, assigned?"

"No."

"What do you mean, no?"

"They were never assigned," Hermione whispered, looking directly as the doctor now. "I took their place."

"What?" the doctor looked at her in confusion. "You took their place? What do you mean?"

Hermione glanced out the window and sighed, sitting up in her seat. "I took their place."

"Madame?" a young girl pulled on the skirt of Hermione's dress for the ceremony.

Hermione turned her gaze on the girl. Young, blonde, innocent. She will sell well. "Yes?"

The girl's eyes watered with unshed tears. "Is it going to hurt?" she whispered.

Hermione melted, taking the girl into her arms. "No, sweetie," she murmured into the crying girl's ear. "It won't hurt a bit."

Hermione schooled her features into a indifferent smirk as she walked into the ballroom, head held high. The girls followed her obediently, standing in a single file line next to the "throne."

"Are the new girls ready, Madame?" Master asked her ceremoniously.

Hermione tilted her chin. "They are, Master."

"Then they must be tested."

"Of course, Master," Hermione motioned with her hand for the group of practiced ladies to come stand by their "little sister."

"Ladies!" she shouted, nodding to Paloma, who had been there nearly as long as she had.

The experienced ladies stripped their robes off, revealing tantalizing lingerie in reds, blacks and greens and a strap-on dildo at their hips.

"Madame, if you would explain to our audience how the girls shall be tested?" Master smirked, settling back in his seat to enjoy the show.

"Of course, Master," Hermione said, clearing her throat. "Each new girl has a companion who has been here for a while. As you can see, each companion is currently wearing a strap-on dildo. The new girls, one at a time, will perform the new skills they have learned the past few days on the dildo, and from their display of skills you will know which girl you want to choose."

The blonde girl from before looked at Hermione with worried eyes. Hermione winked at her subtly, causing the girl's eyes to widen before she quickly looked down at her feet.

Hermione closed her eyes, opening them as Master gave the signal for the first girl began her demonstration. Hermione sat dutifully by her master's side, crouching on her knees on the floor as he absentmindedly ran his fingers through her hair. She looked over to the side where the audience stood, not surprised to see several slaves on their knees or bent over as their owners took full advantage of the situation.

It took several hours before the entire demonstration was over. The girls left to their suite. Master's friends almost immediately began making bids. Hermione waited for the guests to leave, wanting to speak with Master.

She shut the door, turning to look at him. He was ready for her, his robe open at the waist and his hand languidly stroking his member. He smirked at her, motioning her over. She lifted her skirts and sighed as she encased him with her warmth. He slowly moved her up and down, his hands clenched on her hips.

"You've been wanting this all night, haven't you?" he asked her, running his tongue along the outer shell of her ear.

"Yes, Master," she moaned, beginning to move a bit on her own. "But I've also had a suggestion about the girls' auction."

"And what might that be?"

Hermione bit her lips, moving faster over him. "Send them one at a time. One girl has one night all to herself so she can be fully pampered. Only the best for, uh, Master's closest friends."

Master released himself inside her with a groan. "Marvelous idea, pet."

She got off of him, brushing down her skirt and turning to leave.

"Have a good night," Master came up behind her, harshly squeezing her breast. "pet."

"And you as well."

Fred paced back and forth in the study of Malfoy Manor. "Where is she, Malfoy?"

Draco Malfoy shuffled some papers on his desk. "My contact is to report tonight after the dinner party. You said she was there, right?"

"Right." Fred sat down in an armchair, his head in his hands. "She's there. She's the bloody entertainment."

Draco stilled. "I'm sorry, Weasley."

"Malfoy!" a voice called from the Floo. "Malfoy, we found her!"

"Where is she?" Draco stood, coming around the desk.

"She was, uh," the man looked between him and Fred.

"She was what?" Fred asked, eyes pleading.

The man's shoulders fell. "She was in charge of the new, er, additions."

Fred and Draco's expressions were enough for the man to flee the room.


End file.
